Short stories are short, no bones about it. There’s only so much you can pack into 3,000 words. But it’s still important to close the loop.
One of the most common things we see in writing submissions are short stories without endings. They’ll draw you in with a gorgeous setup and the loveliest words you’ve ever seen only to drop off a cliff when it comes to the last few sentences. That’s not to say it isn’t mind-blowing when a story ends with questions or ambiguous lines that haunt you for hours after. That stuff is great. In fact, adding those finishing touches can be just enough to wrap that ending up with a bow, even if the ribbon itches and chafes.
Now, these bows don’t have to be beautiful. In most instances, they’re bittersweet at best. Whether the story ends with skipping into a beautiful sunset, throwing up into a toilet, or staring at shattered glass on the floor, it has a resolution so long as whatever you’re building toward has come a little bit closer to eating us alive.
Things can be unsettled. But your message, or messages, shouldn’t be. We might not know who knocked on the door after hours of waiting for a significant other to call before the author yanks us out of the scene. But we pondered the incomprehensible nature of love as we waited with the narrator. The knock on the door pushes the story to a close while the reader creeps closer to answering the unanswerable. The resolution, in this case, comes from the culmination of all the questions in one messy bundle that the reader is forced to confront, but doesn’t necessarily answer.
What we’re trying to avoid are stories that feel like excerpts of a book. They’re completely captivating, but don’t have as much meaning apart from the larger work they belong in.
How do you know if your story reads like an excerpt? Think about your through line. Is there some theme or recurring image that ties the whole work together? Is there a climax? It could be as simple as the escalation of a thought in the narrator or as dramatic as a knife fight in the kitchen. Have any of your characters changed by the end of the piece? Learned something? Walked away from a challenge? If any of the above has occurred, it’s likely you’ve got a great ending in the works. Just make sure to ride that roller coaster until the story comes to a complete stop.
Let’s talk recycled material. With deadlines coming fast and time at a minimum, writers frequently fall back on class exercises for submission material. This is an awesome solution that allows you to get more mileage per each creative minute. But sometimes, exercises can be synonymous with excerpts.
Exercises often revolve around writing prompts. You’re given a sentence and a ten-minute timer and told to write. This results in super strong beginnings with endings that get tossed in because there are only thirty seconds left on the clock. While this might make the deadline, it might not make it into the magazine. When sifting through your stockpile of exercises, it could be helpful to temporarily delete some of these rushed endings. Return to where you left off in the middle of the story and let it meander its way to a natural end. If it’s the same as the ending you tacked on the first time, then add it back in when you get there. If it’s different, let it be so.
Don’t rush your ending just because you are ready to be done or are coming to the end of your word count. If your ending pushes you over 3,000, go back and cut something from the beginning or middle. Or, find another magazine that can showcase your masterpiece to its fullest extent.
What happens if I don’t even know how my story ends? Not a problem. I hardly ever know what happens to my characters beyond the confines of the moment. Think back to the example about the knock on the door. It’s okay if you—the writer—don’t know who’s on the other side. It’s okay if you have two or three or even four different versions in your head of how the scene plays out. It only matters that you brought us to this moment.
You don’t need to know what the meaning of your work is, only that there is at least one floating out there for the reader to catch onto. And every reader might very well find a different meaning. Leave us the materials, and we’ll build the house for you.
Confusing? Yep. This isn’t a universal fix all or a handy mold that all stories fit perfectly into. Experimenting with form can be just as rewarding and refreshing. I guess the best advice is you’ll know your ending when you see it. You’ll feel it. And we’ll feel it too.